Almost Lost at Christmas
by AlternateShadesofBlue
Summary: Harvey invites Donna on a company ski trip last minute, but troubled storms throw their plans into an unexpected place. Storms, cabins, and snow. Repost from Secret Santa.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Reposting from Darvey Secret Santa on Twitter. Thanks to all that participated, wrote, and read. This was for bassempire's prompt. xoxo- Blue_**

* * *

Opportunity has been dropped in his lap by way of changed plans. Like a case giving him the clear path he'd been waiting for. It's scaring the shit out of him.

Ask him what he'd been waiting for and he couldn't give the answer. He doesn't know for sure. Guarantees? Or just a sign from her that told him he shouldn't be terrified. Of asking for more. Of challenging the things she'd said. Things she'd always said.

She's engrossed in her work when he approaches her office, looking stunning in a black dress that dipped just low enough in the front for him to see a peppering of freckles on her chest. He's out of better moments; all patience run dry.

He steps inside and smiles. "Hey."

She looks up from her screen, the corners of her lips pulling up softly. "Hey back."

He sits in front of her desk, resting a leg on his opposite knee. "What are you doing this weekend?"

She's reading his face. "You're not taking away my Saturday." Her eyes go back to her screen.

His lips smash together, forever impressed with how she does that. "How would you like an extra long weekend instead?"

She sighs, pushing the device closed. "What do you want, Harvey?"

"We have a client that wants us at their event."

" _Us?"_

He nods. It isn't a lie. They just didn't indicate her specifically.

She pauses, thoughts obviously turning. "You and Louis were supposed to go on that ski trip. You're not pawning it off on me."

"Which is _why_ I said us."

She narrows her eyes. "Why isn't Louis going?"

"Sheila might be in labor."

"It's too early."

"No, he gave us later dates. Something about Sheila feeling like a ticking time bomb."

Her shoulders fall. "Harvey, then neither of us can leave. We should be here for this."

"I said the same thing. But apparently he and Sheila want time to bond with the baby for a bit." He leans back. "You won't miss anything, and we'll have our phones."

"I don't know."

"Come on. A luxury ski trip? The long weekend?"

She shakes her head. "I was looking forward to relaxing with a book. And I can arrange those things myself now you know."

"A trip to Hermes?"

She raises her brow.

"We could get shoes too?" he tries.

"You realize I can provide all your bargaining chips these days."

"Couldn't you always?" He bends his head. "I thought you just liked me spending money on you."

She's biting back a grin and he loves what it does to her lips.

"You can borrow my Hampton house," he offers, knowing none of these things are why she'll do it. They do this. He used to think she was really swayed by the bribing but more recently the things they did when it counted told a different truth.

She presses her lips together, and he can tell he's close.

He locks in. "Twice. And I'll cover anything you need for an extra week off next year."

"You mean you'll pay someone else to?"

He shrugs.

"Fine. But I still get the handbag. _And_ the shoes."

His eyes move counter-clockwise as he shakes his head, not daring to argue. He doesn't mind extra plans with her.

"Do I have my own suite?" She raises a brow.

He bites the inside of his cheek. "Is it contingent on you saying yes?"

"What do you think?"

"I'm sure you could take Louis's. Though…"

"What?"

He swallows back his hesitation. "I thought sharing one might be fun."

" _Harvey_."

"What? I'm sure they have two bedroom suites. The time together could be nice."

"You really want to spend an entire weekend in an enclosed space with me?"

"Isn't that what we used to do every day? I kinda miss it," he admits.

"We had separation between us you know," she points out, a slight blush on her cheeks as she turns her head.

"With glass." He bites his lip and he's staring at her. "You don't ever? Miss the time we got together?"

"You annoy me plenty from afar too."

He smiles, but he's not sure how much he means it. She's not as excited about the plan as he'd hoped and he wonders what else he might be misjudging.

Her eyes trace his face, thoughtful. "See if they have a larger suite available."

He can't contain his grin, breathing a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure what the weekend would bring, but what would happen is more time together, which they'd been letting slide for too long.

.

The resort is out of two room suites. Louis had canceled a couple weeks before and never mentioned it. The plan is to get there as soon as they can Friday in case someone cancels. One bed in a cozy and romantic suite lingers in the back of Donna's mind as the weekend approaches.

Harvey shows up almost two hours late to pick her up Friday afternoon because of a last minute client issue, dressed in a gray sweater over a button shirt and casual slacks with an apology on his face. She's not sure if she accepts it because of the sincerity in his expression or the way his casual look makes her want to. He helps her load and they're on their way.

Once they're out of the city, he glances over to her, eyes scanning. She's wearing a charcoal sweater and a pair of fitted jeans with tall boots. Not revealing or overly sexy but his reaction makes her flush anyway. It shouldn't. Sometimes he noticed her sexuality.

And they'd traveled together before. Lines between them had become less challenged in recent months. No late night phone calls, less drinks, and not allowing her thoughts to linger on him when he flirted, which somehow left her even less sure. A kiss that almost lost each other. Blurry lines pointed out somehow made the lines more solid but her resolve less.

She's thankful for skiing, ice skating, a heated Jacuzzi, and spa facilities to distract her if all the togetherness becomes... too much.

The weather conditions do nothing to help the unsettled feeling in her gut. A storm is approaching in the east, leaving traffic and conditions a mess.

"You know we might not even make it," she blurts out after seeing a line of red on the highway ahead on her mapping app.

"There are alternate routes you know." He's calm. Too calm.

"And what if we don't have reception? With Louis and Sheila about to have the baby—"

"Donna, are you wanting to turn back?"

She looks over to him. Knowing all her obvious reasons for saying yes are valid but feeling something larger driving her fear. Him being unaffected makes her doubt any answer. "Do you?" she challenges.

"No, I think we'll be fine." His tone is almost soothing.

Which is leaving her anything but. She turns her head back to the road in front of them, attempting to settle more comfortably into her seat. If he isn't panicking, it makes her worries seem even more out of place.

She knows herself. It's _not_ about wanting him. Or from them coordinating a single bed. It's more dangerous than that. The trip had the potential to combine the pressures at work with the unresolved pressures of them. Opportunity for new irritations, confronting unreturned emotions. Both reaching a height she couldn't dissipate. Her limit is close to being reached.

.

Traffic is now almost at a standstill, and being that they aren't close and already three hours into the drive, turning back seems just as much of a disaster as pushing ahead.

He's thumbing a beat to on the steering wheel to some nostalgic song, glancing to her sporadically during the chorus, instrumental and drums about regrets and familiarity that makes her heart long. It does nothing to settle her mind, which is currently stressing over the fully white mountains ahead.

He suddenly turns down the music, near silence filling the car. "Did Louis tell you his pick for the baby name?"

Her eyes widen and she turns to him. "He told you too? I have to believe Sheila's never going for _Cat_ niss."

"She agrees to all the cats?" he says. "He thought Hunger Games was a reality show."

" _Louis._ " She shakes her head. "I suggested Peeta for the middle name."

Delighted amusement lights up his face. "Did he go for it?"

"He's worried kids might use _Cat Pee_ for bullying."

"They might not be the only ones."

She's about to chastise him but the sound of him chuckling stops her. He's wearing the widest smile. It's been months since she's seen him this way. It settles nerves and makes her breathe deeper. His eye crinkles twinge something low in her stomach, making her press her legs together to make _that_ reaction settle.

Darkness has taken over the sky, and lines of lights are entering on the next on-ramp.

"Shit," he says, frowning.

"We're going to be here all night."

"I'm taking an alternate route." He makes a quick change of lanes approaching the next off ramp.

"Harvey. We could get lost."

"We've got GPS."

"You're going to get us stuck in the snow."

"No, I'm not. It looks like just a smaller main road, we'll be okay."

"I swear to god Harvey, if we freeze to death…"

"Have I led you wrong before?"

She tilts her head, thinking up a list. Mike Ross seems cruel to begin with.

"Relax, Donna. You'll thank me when we get there."

.

Forty-five minutes later and they're pretty much the only ones on the alternate road. This would seem like a good thing, except the snow is coming down so hard visibility is near impossible and the curvy mountain roads are doing nothing to settle her queasy stomach. Trees and snow drifts line the increasingly elevated road.

"Harvey, we should stop."

"And lose all of this headway? We can't turn back now."

"No, we can't. But this isn't safe."

He sighs heavily and slows further, pulling them off to at the next turnout. He palm hits the steering wheel.

Her hand goes to her forehead. They have to be low on gas. They're in the middle of a mostly deserted, unplowed road. They could sit in the heated car for awhile, but soon they'd risk the snow filling the exhaust and killing them from carbon monoxide poisoning, which is perhaps an easier way to go than freezing to death.

"Don't say it," he warns.

"I wasn't going to. Yet."

He's staring ahead, his facial muscles tense.

"Any idea what we're going to do? Because if we stay here—"

"I know, okay? I know." He turns on his phone screen. "Goddammit."

"Let me guess? No service?"

"Yours?"

She shakes her head, looking at the screen. She reminds herself to breathe and begins wringing her hands to distract the growing panic she can't seem to manage or plan for. This is why she hated the unknowns.

His hand suddenly covers hers, stilling them. "Hey. I'll get us out of this. We're going to be okay."

She nods, even though she doesn't quite believe it. If there's anyone she'd want to be trapped with in a situation, it would be him. Scared or not. But that didn't solve the problem.

His hand pulls away.

"Any…?" she pauses.

"Ideas?"

She nods again.

"Uhhh." He rubs his face. "There was a driveway just a bit back with a mailbox. We can head there and hopefully they'll have a landline or something."

"Who exactly do you plan to call?"

"I don't know," he says with annoyance. "But maybe they will or they'll offer us an option for somewhere warm."

She avoids pointing out the fears running through her mind. Approaching some unsuspecting stranger's house in the dark, going inside, being at their full mercy with any number of weapons possibly on hand.

If anyone is even home. Not to mention the walking distance in this active snowstorm, or the fact despite warm coats they're not dressed for this weather. She can't decide if this is closer to a horror movie or adventure drama and _neither_ are her favorite genres.

They decide to leave luggage and just stuff important items in their coat pockets. Phone, keys, wallet, chargers. She's happy at least the snow isn't super packed. It's slippery, but she's mostly able to keep her footing. They're getting wet and frozen before they even make it to the driveway, which must be close to half a mile back. Once they finally arrive to the incline is steep.

She looks to him, nervous. He scoops his arm under hers and grabs her hand, while they step up along the side.

Each step is precarious. Every move up slides her feet back and deep into snow. She's wobbly. Her breath is panting. They're almost there.

She steps down and her foot hits the edge of something hard and she slips, her ankle bending beneath her. She cries as she's falling to the snowy ground.

He's on his knees next her her in a second. "You okay?"

She tries to move her leg and knows right away 'okay' isn't the word she'd use. It feels stiff with piercing pain. "I think I twisted it."

"Shit." He's helping her move it, applying pressure and focused on her response.

She has motion, but it hurts. The icy snow has soaked through her jeans to her skin. She's burning and numb. A panic builds, ridiculous thoughts of being permanently stuck race through her head. Everything seems insurmountable. The walk. The cold. Getting help.

The house is still a distance beyond the driveway. He stares down at her and then toward the house.

Her eyes fall closed. "Maybe you should go ahead. You can come back." She's shaking, she's not sure from cold, pain, or stress but they're getting nowhere with her like this.

" _No._ You're freezing. I'll help you."

He pulls her up. She can manage weight on it, painfully. He lifts her arm around his shoulders, holding her around the back. She's relieved he's helping. They hobble up the path, until they finally reach the porch. He lifts her over the steps.

There's a cross above the door, and a sign that reads _God Bless This Humble Home._ She's not sure if it makes her feel safer or worse.

"Uh, Donna? Whatever happens, just go along with it."

Before she can ask he knocks and in less than a minute a small older man pulls back the door just a few inches, with an even shorter woman peeking from under his armpit. They're somewhere close to sixty-something, with graying hair and clothes that look like they're from an LL Bean catalog.

"Can I help you?" the man asks.

Harvey clears his throat. "I hope so. My wife and I were on our way from Manhattan to a Christmas event at Lake Placid and the snow got too bad to drive in. She fell and hurt her ankle, and we don't have phone service. I was hoping maybe you had a landline or something to get some help?"

Donna's eyes have widened, and she's trying really hard to keep an even face. _Wife?_

"We do, but you're not going to get help out here tonight. They'll clear the roads when the weather lets up."

Harvey frowns. "Any idea when that might be?"

The couple's lips press together in matching sympathy, and they're shaking their heads.

Harvey looks to Donna, sighing. The knot in her chest tightens.

"Got any suggestions for us? By the way, I'm Harvey, and this is Donna."

 _His wife._ Her lungs burn from the air she draws in to nearly choke.

"Nice to meet you both. I'm Bob and this is Pammy."

They've exchanged handshakes, and the old man turns and stares into the eyes of the woman beside him for a moment, some obvious silent communication passing between them. "We've got a small guest house out back. It's not much but it would be a place to stay for the night and get you out of those icy clothes."

Harvey looks to Donna and she nods. "That's... more than we could ask for."

"Thank you," Donna offers warmly.

"Do you have fresh clothes?" Pammy asks.

"Our luggage is back in the car." Harvey rubs the back of his neck. "Maybe I can get her comfortable and go back to get it."

"I don't suggest you trek back out in this. Pammy and I can come up with enough for you both tonight. Hopefully tomorrow the weather will let up and I'll help you get your things. Let's focus on getting you both warm before you catch cold."

Bob quickly pulls on winter gear and grabs a flashlight. They slowly walk down the porch steps, visibility rough as they circle around the modest cabin home.

Donna's struggling. Wet, shivering, and tensing every time she puts weight on her leg. Harvey suddenly stops and circles her. She furrows her brow and then he lifts her in his arms bridal style.

"Harvey!"

"It's only a bit farther and you're in pain."

"You don't know that and we don't need both of us injured!"

"It's only forty feet or so," Bob offers.

Harvey walks slowly and she sighs.

She knows it's slippery, they're both soaked and cold. He can probably barely see between the wind and the snow in his face. She's got to be awkward to carry with the puffy wet coat.

Such a hero complex.

She nearly gasps each time he steps, an unsure drop as they sink into the snow. Her arms wrap tighter around his neck as her only means of support, her face buried into his shoulder. Her breath evens. He does make her feel safe.

They're safe. Together. Even if he let her down, he always managed to come through with a safety net.

They reach a small building, looking not much bigger than a wooden shed. Bob opens the weathered door with a key, then lets Harvey and Donna in first. It's not any warmer, but at least they're indoors.

Bob closes the door, then fidgets with a plug. A tabletop Christmas tree illuminates the room with tiny colorful lights. There's a star is on top and it's decorated with multicolored shiny bulbs. "It's not much but it's a little cheer."

Harvey sets Donna down on a bed.

Real wood paneling lines the walls, and a faint smell of cedar fills the room. There's a tiny kitchen at the far end, with not much else in the room other than the bed barely big enough for two, and a pair of armchairs in front of a wood burning stove.

Bob looks around. "Everything's fairly clean. We had it ready for my son and his wife coming next week. Let me get the heat going and show you how it works. I don't suppose you city folk have used a wood burning stove before?"

"No. I've started a few campfires," Harvey offers.

"Well, you should manage, then. I'd get out of those coats." Bob kneels down in front of the stove and opens it up, placing some crumpled paper inside. "So the two of you are from New York City? What do you do?"

"We uh, both help run a law firm together." Harvey kneels in front of her, helping her out of her coat and removing his. His voice is low. "Maybe I should rush him out of here and you can get out of the rest of these."

She shakes her head, whispering firmly, "No. They're helping and you can't kick him out. The fire should help."

Harvey's face tenses. He pulls a throw blanket over her shoulders.

"You're both attorneys then?" Bob asks.

"I'm a named partner and she's COO."

"Family business?"

Harvey meets her eyes, wearing a faint smile. "Something like that."

"You been running it long?" Bob adds kindling and lights the fire.

"We've been working together for over thirteen years now," Donna answers. "But the promotions came more recently." She tries to ignore how tired she feels from the shivering.

Bob eyes them both curiously. "Congratulations." He adds some wood to the fire, explaining how to keep it going.

Soon petite Pammy bursts in with snow following after her, arms loaded with plastic bags. "Help me, Bob, will you?" Bob gets up from the fire and quickly grabs the bags she hands over and sets them on the counter. "There's homemade lasagna in there, plus things for breakfast. Snacks. Extra bedding and PJs. New toothbrushes." She lists it all rapidly, looking over Donna. She hands Harvey a bag. "Just things to hold you over. The rest you'll need should be in the bathroom. The bedding is clean."

"Thank you again, really," Donna says.

"Sorry for the humble accommodations," Bob says.

"It's better than our alternatives. Harvey and I are used to being in small places together." They meet eyes again, and his crinkle just the faintest bit.

"Oh yeah, those small apartments in the city," Bob says.

"Something like that," she repeats Harvey's response with a smile.

"Well, hurry and get her out of those clothes and into the tub. The water heater's not huge but you could share to manage," Pammy says.

Her lips fall open.

"Oh, don't worry about keeping warm in the nature way out here. We don't mind." Pammy's eyes are sparkling.

"Pammy," Bob scolds.

"What? They're married." She scoffs and then leans her head in like she's about to tell a secret. "You know, two of our kids were born in the fall because of winter storms."

Donna feels a breath catch in her throat, nearly choking. "That won't be a worry."

Bob and Pammy's brows are drawn together.

Harvey clears his throat.

"My hurt leg," Donna amends.

Pammy frowns, seeming disappointed.

Bob does a light nod. "Let's hurry and leave these two alone."

Pammy looks over her shoulder as Bob is pulling her out. "Ice her ankle when she gets warmed up. And there's some Motrin in the cabinet. You two make yourselves at home!".

Donna sighs as soon as they're gone.

He's in front of her, scanning her over and frowning. "Let's get you to the bath."

She looks to the distance, her leg already swelling and throbbing in her boot.

"Let me carry you?"

She nods, too cold to argue and he scoops her up.

"Did you just threaten to withhold sex with your pretend husband?" he asks with humor in his voice.

"My pretend husband promised me a billionaire ski vacation with a Christmas party and a two bedroom suite."

He bites his lip, bumping the door with his shoulder and pausing with a smirk. "Is this so bad?"

"If I get warm, no." She settles challenging eyes on him. "Married, Harvey? Really?"

He steps inside a small room, leaning against a switch to turn it on. "You saw the signs on their door. I wanted to make sure we didn't get hassled."

"Well if you ask me, Pammy didn't seem concerned about fornication."

He stands a little straighter, wearing a mischievous grin. "Can you blame her?"

Donna wants to make a crack to knock him down a peg but is suddenly feeling extra jittery, and her eyes start to close.

"Hey! You okay?" Harvey's head tilting with eyes set on her.

"Just cold, Harvey."

He sets her down on lid of the toilet, kneeling by her foot.

Before she can comment he's pulling down the zipper of her boot. Hands delicately slide the leather down her calf. The force and maneuvering needed to remove the heel makes her cry out. He winces, giving her an apologetic look, then removes the second one and then her damp socks.

Water and snow drip on the rug below. He carefully raises the hem of her pants, examining her leg. His fingertips begin smoothing over aching skin, pressing in and testing. She can see him frowning. Commenting on bruises and swollen skin. If not for the discomfort of her injury, she'd almost forget why he's touching her, something intoxicating about his soft touch and intense focus.

Her chest sinks with a longing she hates. It takes something stressful between them to get this close. Her insides ache, to add to her current torment. She notices he's watching her, attuned to her reaction.

He frowns, looking away, then stands and steps to the tub, turning on the faucet. His head turns toward her, not quite looking while he feels the water. "You uh, going to need help?"

The tenseness in his body is revealing he's as nervous as she is.

"Maybe. My fingers are hurting and numb." She pauses as he turns and steps up to her.

He swallows.

The thing is, maybe she doesn't. Of course she can use the help to make it easier. But she knows if he wasn't here, maybe she could manage all of this with slightly more effort and pain. Something about him caring for her made things in her body come alive she'd rarely let herself feel.

Need. Not necessarily arousal, but arousing the feeling of letting him lead. Being vulnerable with him. Fleeting opportunity in an isolated space. She smooths out her hair, decision set. "Can you bring a towel?"

He nods and grabs one, moving back to her. He's close enough to feel like an anchor and she's sure she's wild at sea.

Their eyes meet and he reaches down, hot breath against her cheek. His fingers loop under her sweater and he pulls it up until it's over her head, her hair falling back to her shoulders. She's left in a white tank. Her nipples are almost painfully erect and she's sure he can see them. His eyes linger then quickly dart away.

She uses the sides of the wall to brace herself up. Her skin almost burns because despite the fire going it hasn't reached the room. She helps him remove her undershirt next, the backs of his cool fingers tracing up her sides, leaving her skin jumpy and tingling.

He's close. Too close. Not close enough for their chests to touch, but close enough he's watching her eyes as he unhooks the clasp of her bra. Her lips part but before she fully processes he's handing her the towel.

She's topless, shivering, and quickly wrapping the terry around her chest.

He's still as stone when he lifts the towel enough to reach the top of her pants. He fidgets with the button and she feels like a jerk for not considering how cold he must be too. The zipper is lowered and the band at her waist loosens. His fingertips hook under it, brushing the bare skin on her sides. He works them down around her hips and ass, his face ending level with hers when he follows them. He pauses there for a moment, his chest rising and falling.

His eyes close. "Donna…"

"It's okay."

Her panties don't slip as easily as her pants. Delicate lace fabric needing coaxing over the curve of her ass. His knuckles brush as he follows the path, fabric lightly stimulating as it reveals wanting skin. The heat pools between her legs, in opposition to her frozen skin.

Maybe she'd accept anything he asked of her right now. And it feels like cheating herself in some way. Not demanding more from him, the more maybe she'd been searching for all along.

At that moment she doesn't care. She's freezing and needing warmth, jittery and needing something to hold on to, and terrified of every move. Because she wants all from him and he doesn't. She's teasing herself just to have it ripped away in the end.

Suddenly his hands are gone, towel fallen back in place, and he's stepped back slightly. Her body feels emptier without him as close.

The towel isn't covering much more than high on her thighs. He's paused, eyes on hers while he kneels down at her feet. His face is close enough to kiss her thighs and it's almost more than she can take not to lean into the want.

"Harvey." She wants to plead, but she doesn't know the wish yet. This feels like crossing a line between them, one she's sure will only hurt. She doesn't care as much about her naked body, as exposing herself to feelings of him seeing her this way.

"I wasn't planning on..." he pauses, sighing.

"I know. It's not...I trust you. It's just…"

"Beyond our usual?"

"Yeah."

They're both looking away suddenly. She sinks to sit. Then he works off her pants and panties the rest of the way. She hasn't felt more awkward and alert between her legs, with him as the cause, probably ever.

He quickly stands, placing the items unfolded on top of her others in the basket beside them.

He tests the tub then helps her in, offering his hands. The water is hot, not scalding but stingy to her cool skin. She invites the shock, wants to sink into it.

The towel is the final obstacle. "I can manage from here. With the sides of the tub."

"Okay." He's staring before he looks away again. "Good. Call me if you need me? And… to get out."

She nods.

He walks to the door.

"Harvey?"

He turns, something shy but hopeful in his eyes.

"What about you? I know you're freezing."

He scratches the back of his neck. "Not as much as you think."

And then he's gone. As she situates in the water she wonders if the reason his chill had faded was similar to the reason her skin felt so flushed despite the cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Shortly after she's soaking and finally warming up, he knocks and opens the door, avoiding looking her way. He brings in pajamas and sets them on a stool. He leaves the door cracked, explaining the heat seems to have finally kicked in.

When she's finished, she decides not to call him back in. There's no way to gracefully help a naked wet body, and somehow thawing herself out had returned her wits about her. She isn't a damsel, whether in distress or not. The task is challenging but manageable, and soon she's dressed in some very unsexy green tartan flannel pajamas. She's grateful for the coziness and warmth though, and hobbles her way out of the bathroom.

She stifles a laugh when she sees him sitting in the armchair in front of the stove.

He looks up, grinning as he looks her over.

They're in matching PJ's. Harvey in hunter green flannel plaid might be the most amusing sight she's ever seen.

"Festive," she says.

"And matching," he answers dryly. "You hungry?" He doesn't bring up her dressing on her own, and she's thankful.

He moves to the further chair as she approaches, handing her a plate of the steaming pasta. Two glasses of red wine sit between them on a side table.

She raises an eyebrow.

"I found a box of it. I figure with as friendly as Pammy is, she wouldn't mind if we did some relaxing."

She figures he's right, and starts consuming both. It may be from the stress of the trip, but it's some of the best she's ever had.

"Your bath okay?" he asks.

"I feel about a hundred times better."

"How's the ankle?"

"Still twisted."

"We should prop it." Harvey gets up before she can respond, returning soon with a stool, pillows, and ice. He starts arranging it for her, his hands soft as he gently raises her leg.

Her skin goosebumps, before the ice even touches her. He's almost ridiculously attentive. It makes her blush and feel guilty for how apprehensive she's been. "You sure you're warm enough?"

"I'm fine now," he says, sitting beside her again.

"I wonder if Louis and Sheila had the baby yet."

"Nah. His anxiety is probably stalling her labor."

"Be nice."

"What? It can happen."

"And how would you know?" she arches a brow.

"Katie has teased Marcus about it for years."

She straightens, the idea of him being in any way knowledgeable about this not occurring to her. "Oh. Sometimes I forget you're _Uncle_ Harvey."

He smiles, sipping his wine. "Maybe sometime you could come see me in action."

Her eyes grow wide. "To see Marcus?"

"And my mom. Would that be weird?"

"Your long-time secretary turned COO suddenly showing up with you to a family dinner after all these years? I'm sure no one would bat an eye." She smirks, and tries to silence all the questions her brain is begging to ask her subconscious.

"Your parents have met me," he counters.

"I met Marcus that one time he came into the city." She gives him the out he has to be looking for.

"Outside of the firm, Donna."

 _He's only asking because they're like family. Blurry lines. Not because of anything else._ Her attempt to appease herself doesn't help. She's confused. And she has to ask. "That's something you'd really want?"

He smiles, staring toward the fire.

Everything about this trip and how it's going is unsettling her. Never has he been as unreadable all at once. Her gaze slips to the bed, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Not exactly the weekend we thought, huh?" he asks, almost apologetic.

"No."

"Is that…" he pauses, and she meets his eyes. He darts them toward the bed and back. "Going to be okay?"

"We're adults, Harvey."

"So… Is it?" he presses.

"Other than feeling like we're in a Hallmark Christmas movie?" she quips. She's not horrored anymore, and though this raised her heart rate, they're not on an adventure. Even if she might crave his body heat tonight.

"It's weird," he agrees, seeming reluctant.

"It's no different than dancing all night at a wedding, right?"

"Or more." It's bold— the light humor hidden on his face.

She shakes her head. Bringing up _the other time_ isn't going to make this _less_ awkward. "What's the rule about that?"

"The one you've broken too?" he challenges.

She decides to deflect, needing far away from _that_ subject. "More wine?"

"I'll get us some."

Donna's stuffed. Harvey clears their plates and cleans up, then sits again, the tree and fire light dancing around them with fresh glasses of wine. They talk about Mike and Rachel. Harvey tells her about one of their new cases, and Donna tells him about their new craftsman bungalow they bought there. Mike hired a professional decorator to surprise Rachel with it all lit up for the holidays.

"What was your favorite Christmas?" he asks suddenly.

She thinks on it, remembering one of her favorites with her dad. "When I was eleven, there was this girl in the school who hated me. Made my entire year a living hell. Took over areas I hung out in, took over my friends. Then one day, she came up with my best friend right before break. Stephanie. My so-called friend teased me for always sitting with the recital teacher at lunch. The same secret I'd confessed to her to escape my bully. They skipped off, holding hands." She fidgets, the memory still irritating.

"And that's your favorite?" he teases.

"Do you always interrupt stories?"

His lips smash together. "Go on."

"My dad knew I was depressed. A few days of me moping and he pulled me into the garage and sneakily showed me a program for arts camp for that spring they'd gotten me as a gift. Told me not to tell my mom, but better days were coming."

"I bet little Donna ate that up."

"Oh yeah. I was in much better spirits. Camp ended up being my first experience in a play. It was where my love for piano grew. I came home with two new best friends."

He's biting the inside of his cheek, like there's something he's holding back.

"My dad isn't all bad, Harvey."

"None of us are."

She wonders if he's referring to his mother, or something else. "What's your favorite holiday memory?"

"I don't know."

"Come on, you've got to have one."

"Okay, fine." He leans back. "This one year Marcus found gifts hidden in the closet. All he wanted that year was a Gameboy. Couldn't shut up about it.

He saw his name on the tag, knew the box like his face, so he unwrapped it. The idiot. He took it out of the box and rewrapped it, planning to put it back before they noticed. Want to guess what happened next?"

"That didn't work out." She shakes her head.

"They moved the presents. He had to unwrap an empty box. Dad made Marcus give it back for three months. He cried and cried. It was his main gift, you know."

"Heartwarming story, Harvey. Glad you shared." It's her turn to roll her eyes.

"Are you going to let me finish?" he asks cheekily.

She seals her lips, waiting.

"I knew where they hid it. I felt bad, so I got it down for him when they left us alone. I was a sucker."

"Some things never change."

"Maybe not. You know he smashed his screen six months later? Banged his head into it because he was pissed at a game."

"You're kidding?"

Harvey shakes his head.

"God you're a pushover."

He chuckles.

They trade stories and laugh until Harvey needs to add to the fire again. They've finished several glasses of wine each, and Donna starts to yawn.

"Tired?" he asks.

She probably is. But honestly doesn't know. She wants to climb into bed, and perhaps that's what makes her not want to. Feeling his hands on her made her want more of the feeling. Being close to him. Feeling an ease between them.

They have no office distractions. No books. No phones. No television. Not even a way distract herself with other things around the cabin because of her leg. She nods because maybe even continuing talking and drinking might be a risk.

"So how are we doing this? Head to feet?"

"What are we ten? And if you think you're putting those by my face—" she gestures to his feet.

"Me on top of the covers?" He chuckles, teasing.

"I don't think that cross on their door needs to carry that much weight, Harvey."

Their smiles suddenly fade, and he's helping her over to the bed. She climbs in and he checks the stove, adding another log. She spreads the extra blankets across the bed, and he's soon beside her.

"Do you want the Motrin?"

She shakes her head. It wouldn't mix with wine so well. He climbs in beside her.

She's laying on her back, staring at the ceiling, the sides of their bodies touching and lined up. She can smell his aftershave. Him. Some kind of woodsy, citrus scent calling her in.

Her leg is throbbing, and she's not sure if she can sleep.

He stuffs his arms under the blankets, resting them at his sides. She feels his pinky lingering against her thigh. Maybe it's the injury. Maybe it's the fact she's vulnerable and they're alone. The lightest touches are making her crave more.

She lets her hand slip lower. Tempting closer. Until hers brushes his. The sides of their hands test each other, tentative until their fingers link. She can feel his body move with breaths. His chest expanding and falling. She wants to feel it. Know that she can.

"You comfortable?" he asks.

"Not really," she admits.

"Your leg?" he asks.

She confirms, using it as an excuse. She's not sure if the answer is the main reason, but it's less terrifying than the truth.

"Come here." His hand unlinks from hers and seeks for her other wrist. Pulling her to her side, his arm scooping under her head. He finds her leg and coaxes it over his, hand cupping just above her knee. It skims up, resting just above her hip. "Better?"

She feels like she can't breathe at first. Her face finds his shoulder, scent of foreign fabric that smells of someone else's detergent. He's smoothing fingertips in her hair. She wants to sink into him, breathe him in, let go the way her body wants her to. Lose herself in finding him.

His lips press in her hair and then he stills. He shifts until he catches her face. Eyes meeting. Intermingling breaths. An inch of a decision between them.

This is why they don't touch. An unlocked door. No longer off limits, hers for the taking if she only kept taking steps. Taunting; tempting.

But he put them here. He's letting them get this close when he has to know she wanted more, when he made her promise to never do it again. This isn't fair.

His head angles and she snaps. "No, Harvey." She pushes his arm off, and pulls herself to sit, disentangling as far away as possible in such a ridiculously small bed.

"Donna—"

She holds up a hand to stop him. "You can't just do this without an explanation."

His face tenses, a furrow in his brow. "Well since we can't seem to find the words, I thought we'd communicate a different way." He pauses before he looks up to her.

"I deserve more. We both do."

He sighs and pulls himself to sit, facing her, wearing an almost desperate expression. "Where do I start, Donna?"

"With how you feel." There's something almost cruel about her holding him to the mat like this, waiting for him to fully submit first or having her walk away. But she's given him her life without questioning why he deserved the constancy, and she feels like for once she's going to demand blind faith from him.

He looks down. "The way I feel about you," his voice is low, almost timid except for the depth of his tone, "I've never been able to express because I have nothing like it to compare to."

"Well, I guess that's a—"

"Let me finish," he demands, slightly petulant.

She acquiesces, biting back an impressed smile.

"I said before that I love you." He meets her eyes, voice almost harsh, as she holds her breath.

His face softens. "And at first that meant I needed you. Around. By my side. Loyalty."

"At first?"

"Now I've figured out I want to be around you. I like being the one to make you smile. I like being able to call you whenever I need to. I want to see you when I get home and goddammit I crave to touch you."

She feels mute, like stuck in a dream where all options have left you frozen in the face of a risk. Her heart is carved out and raw, all the pieces laying between them, even though he's the one that just confessed.

"Are you going to say anything?" he presses.

"I—I'm not sure I can." She's more than terrified.

"You challenged me." He bends his head, expectantly.

As if she's the one who brought them here. He's not getting off that easy. "First… why haven't you done anything before now?"

He sighs. "I've wanted to talk about it. It's not so easy."

" _We should talk about what happened_ seems pretty self explanatory to me."

"I couldn't risk losing you." His eyes are firm on hers, and then he softens again. "That's… That's the only thing I _can't_ live with."

She shakes her head. "Doing nothing could've risked everything."

"You think I don't know that? That's why when Louis suggested you come with me, I jumped. It's just, after thirteen years of holding back, it's hard to work you _want everything_ into a conversation."

She's blinking, trying to hold back being teary and emotional and such _a cliche_ about this.

"You know, the minute I realized you were actually kissing me? I've never wanted anyone more."

"Well, you had a shitty way of expressing that."

"You didn't have great timing."

"It wasn't planned."

They're silent, her mind circling, unable to process the words as fast as they came.

He's suddenly leaning in, close again. Hand pressing into the mattress beside her.

"Since you're struggling to tell me how you feel... If you could kiss me again right now, would you?"

Her eyes fall closed, briefly, like feeling the heat of his breath has her under a spell. When you've trapped words that linger in your subconscious repeatedly over a decade of years, they feel insurmountable to let free. She wants to throw the burden back on him. Make him say he wants to. She nods lightly instead, her eyelids fluttering.

He leans in more, breath trading with hers. Their lips brush, soft, instantly awaking a craving for more. He reads it, mouth parting, seeking her lips until their tongues touch. She grips his collar as he angles her with fingertips on her chin. Her head is spinning. She parts for her bearings. Their foreheads rest together.

"You're not going to demand the same from me?" she asks. Because maybe he should.

"Does my answer get in the way of me getting to see you naked again?"

She pulls back, tilting her head and he rolls his eyes.

"We deserve this, Harvey."

His face hardens, like he's bracing himself for something. It occurs to her maybe hearing this is going to be even harder for him than saying it. She's giving it to him anyway. "You scare the shit out of me. Or my feelings for you do. Because I never wanted to sacrifice as much of everything for anyone else. I don't want to _need_ people."

"I know," he says, softly, almost defensively. His hand clenching on her thigh.

"I need you."

He swallows.

"And maybe I had my rule in place to see if we were ever strong enough to break it." She feels like she's going to pass out from the admission. Or his little grin that's hitting her in the chest.

His eyes now have a sheen, his chin almost shaking. "I do love you. Can I kiss you again now?"

How he seems to suddenly be one step ahead emotionally she'll never know. "One more thing first," she decides.

His shoulders fall.

She pulls in a breath, letting the last of her barricades fall free with an exhale. "I love you too, Harvey."

His face softens, relaxed, wearing the most genuine grin she's ever seen him wear. It finds her quickly, his mouth open and needing. He's savoring his exploration, finding her bottom lip then top. He pulls her up onto his lap, his hand cradling her face before it slips down her hair, to her neck and shoulder until finally finding her side. Her mouth parts more, craving him, wanting more. He sucks on her tongue, causing her to whine, then sweeps inside, taking turns with her lips and making everywhere else want the attention he's giving her mouth. She leans into him, needing him. Fingers brushing into his hair and nails tracing patterns. She grips as much of his trimmed strands as she can, pulling him closer.

His lips move to her chin then arrive and her neck. Her breaths are practically coming in pants just from the way he's devouring. He begins to unbutton her pajama shirt, then they pull apart, him looking her over and laughing. "Not exactly how I'd imagined this."

"Tired of undressing me yet?" she teases, beginning on his buttons too.

"I'm just getting started."

She swallows. So much so fast, and so much to… come.

He finally just pulls her shirt over her head, growing impatient of the last buttons and she does the same with his. Slow breaths and needing eyes linger over her naked skin. Eyes lingering over her chest then back to her face. If she wasn't warm now the want alone could heat her up.

She wants to straddle him, feel the entirety of his chest but a wrong twist tells her that's not going to work. "My leg. I'm worried… are we going to be able to do this?"

A thought of regret seems to pass over his face. "Shit."

Her thumbs flick across his nipples. "I'm sorry. Maybe we can—"

"No. I left protection in the car."

"I'm… covered Harvey. If you?"

He nods, then pulls her off his lap to his side of the bed, an intention obvious. He helps her out of the pants, gently slipping them from her hips. Then he's off the bed and removing his own. They're taking each other in, his want no longer hidden.

She reaches for him, gripping and savoring the velvet skin over his length. Using her thumb to spread the moisture already formed at the tip. He thrusts between her fingers, eyes closing. She coaxes him closure with a tug, leaning forward to take the head in her mouth. She sucks down his cock a few times, using her lips to spread saliva and work a slow rhythm, not wanting to end this quickly. Her hands find his butt, pulling him in enough to elicit moans while she feels his balance waver.

He's quickly threading fingers in her hair, gripping to slow her, their eyes meeting from her down there and him up there. How fitting. How Harvey. And yet the power levels felt completely reversed. She thinks it's a perfect metaphor for who they are. Him on top getting the obvious rewards, her in complete control with him at her mercy.

He pulls her gently back, dick near throbbing, a thick heat filling the room and constricting her chest. It's time. For them.

She's soon helped to her back, him parting her legs to fit between. He kisses her again, soon moving back down her neck, to her chest. He spends time there. Kissing the underside of her breasts, fingers skimming the outsides while his mouth finds a nipple. She arches to his exploration. Wanting more at any given place, while needing him to go further.

He's at her stomach to her hips, making her close to ticklish as her body squirms to his mouth. Hot air teases as he finds the inside of her thighs, sucking in flesh and exploring her outer lips. She reaches between her legs and grips his hair, harder than he had hers. Playful eyes meet hers between her legs. His mouth moves forward and finds her clit, not being shy about suction off the bat. His tongue flicks in tune with it drawing between his lips. It's almost to the point of too much while she wants to beg him never to stop. His fingers find her entrance and he moans vibrations against her clit as he slips inside.

They work to find space, twisting and thrusting deeper, searching for the spot that makes her gasp. Contact hits, and he's coaxing her demise from inside and out. She's glad noise isn't an issue because she's panting and moaning more than she can even fully process.

He's stilling her hips, keeping her down on the earth when her body is seeking another world. She doesn't take long to come hard, the room disappearing while she's only left with his name releasing from her lips. Releasing her from years of craving him— only set free by his assistance.

She's raw and throbbing with the best ache she's even known when his tongue carries her gently on the other side, fingers pulling out and leaving her wanting.

"Fuck, Harvey."

His jaw works, which seems to be enough of an answer that that was his next plan. He scoots to the opposite side of her, coaxing her to turn away from him. She looks back at him questioningly, and he answers with his mouth tasting of her. Sensual and assured, a flat palm on her abdomen pulling her back into him.

An open mouth kiss lands where her shoulder meets her neck, and goosebumps form all the way to her toes. He leans her forward a bit, bending her legs in front. His upper hand grazes over her chest and stomach while he kisses her neck. He adjusts her top leg, making room, his cock slipping along her slit. The intense rush she feels between her legs is almost more than she can take. She's rocking backwards, needing to feel him. He positions and slips inside, letting her adjust as he presses forward.

It's slower than she imagined out of necessity. But somehow better. His mouth exploring her neck and upper back alone playing a tune that could just about get her there. His palm squeezing her breasts, skimming along her bare skin lighting awareness to being touched this way by Harvey. She reaches behind to pull his head into her, then around her hip to pull at his. Coaxing him deeper inside. His fingers find their way between her legs, igniting her senses again. He works his hips, alternating rhythm with his fingers, mouth voracious on her neck.

Her body climbs slowly, so gently she's worried she won't go a second time. Then the tension prickles in her belly, right to the top before it drops her, soaring gently and softly to the ground. His body speeds up behind hers, finding his release in several final strokes.

They end entangled and spent together. Taking up half a bed that had started half the size she thought she needed, overheated and all tension eased. Exactly the reverse of how they'd arrived.

.

They awake to sunshine through the cabin's tiny windows. The fire had gone out overnight, their bodies still joined under the blankets seeking each other's warmth. Kissing him first thing in the morning feels like a more vivid version of a recurring dream. He takes her a second time, this time with care on top. Her leg is throbbing and swollen by the end, with purple bruising now fully formed.

Harvey brings her Motrin and ice, then gets started on making eggs, sausage, and toast. He brings her breakfast in bed, and they throw the pajamas back on just to stay warmer. Pammy and Bob arrive to let them know the road is plowed, and Harvey throws on his coat to go and get their luggage with Bob's help, this time parking closer.

When he's back, he helps her get dressed in her own clothes, then she pulls out a wrapped package from her luggage and hands it his way. He seems touched by the gesture, his forehead forming wrinkles in surprise. He opens the paper and the box, then pulls out a stack of documents. "What's this?"

"Can you not read, named partner?"

He rolls his eyes then scans the text. His jaw twitches. "My father's work?"

"A song. I had Samantha bargain for you to have rights. I know it doesn't get it distributed wide, but it's yours."

" _Second Chances,_ " he reads softly.

"I didn't plan on it being so apropos but…"

"Life sometimes works out."

"Yeah," she breathes.

"Well, my gift is going to go right along with that theme."

"Harvey, I always get my own presents."

" _Not_ always." He gets up from the bed, then goes over to his garment bag and produces a large envelope.

"You're so original."

"Open it."

She unwraps the seal, then slips out her own stack of legal documents and reads. Theater, Connecticut. A transfer of title. _The Donna?_ "What is this Harvey?"

His cheeks are flushed, and he bites his lip. "It's an old theater company I bought. For you. It's small and run by locals mostly."

"You found a theater company named The Donna?"

"Not exactly. You can call it whatever you want. I just thought that after what happened with your previous venture, maybe you'd like one that was closer to your roots? If it's a stupid idea—"

She silences him with her lips pressing into his. Tears spill out of her eyes. She's sure she's never loved someone as much as she loves him right now.

.

He leaves a stack of hundreds on the counter for Bob and Pammy. They say their goodbyes and Harvey offers them a trip on him to the city someday. New experience had led them to great things, so maybe it could for them too.

.

The hotel staff brings Donna a wheelchair as soon as they arrive. They have a staff medic come and check it, wrapping it in a brace and bandage, and suggest they go to the local urgent care for an X-ray first thing in the morning. Donna protests it's overkill, but he's not taking chances with her. Especially not now.

The lobby of the resort looks nothing short of spectacular. Three-story high ceilings with exposed stained beams, massive chandeliers lighting up the large space. If rustic could meet elegance they seemed to have the look mastered. He's pleased with her wide eyes and chatter surrounding it all. He thinks he could spend a lifetime trying to cause both.

Many of the planned activities are out, but there's no shortage of options when nudity and a shared bed are suddenly opportunities. They'll utilize room service and hot tubs but won't need much more.

They check them in quickly, immediately offering the two bedroom suite for their trouble. The irony isn't lost on them. They quickly decline.

The room is nothing short of just as impressive. Log walls throughout with a wooden ceiling, a large handcrafted headboard framing a king platform bed. He helps lift her on it, planning to keep her rested and cared for, and thoroughly making use of the rest.

She's looking out an entire wall of windows facing twilight snow, with ample seating to admire the view. A riverstone fireplace is on the far wall, with holiday decor throughout. She looks at him, her chest rising and falling. He sits beside her, feeling like he'd stepped into a different life. One where he could feel relaxed. Settled. Happy. Lucky.

Harvey's phone chimes and he answers. "Hello."

"Oh my god Harvey. I've never been so happy to hear your voice. You made it." Louis sounds positively _giddy_.

"Who called you? We just got to the resort."

"I threatened lawsuits if they didn't inform me the minute you and Donna entered those double doors. I had the search party ordered."

"We weren't lost, Louis. At least not all the way." Harvey meets Donna's eyes and she gives him a soft smile. "Just stuck."

"So…" Louis stops.

Harvey knows Louis is dying for the big question. "The baby come yet?"

Donna practically leaps over and grabs his phone, hitting the speaker button. "Wait, wait. I want to be a part of this. Did she?"

"Hi Donna. So glad you're okay."

"Louis!" she demands.

"She did." Louis's voice is the most proud he's ever heard, and almost… secure. Which was the oddest way to ever describe Louis.

"So?" Donna asks.

"Matilda. Matilda Darvey Litt."

"Darvey?" they both say in unison.

"What, I thought you were both dead."

"As in Donna and Harvey, Louis?" Donna asks.

"What other combination could it be?" Louis asks.

"We weren't even missing 24 hours," Harvey says.

"Sheila and I didn't want to tempt fate. She got a name she likes and I got Jewish."

"So she's Matilda _glad you both weren't dead_ Litt," Harvey teases.

"It means heroine. She was probably good luck for you," Louis says.

Donna's cheeks flush just a bit.

"Maybe she is Louis," Harvey says, feeling his own chest full and content. This was his Gameboy, her Art camp, arriving at the perfect time and in the perfect way.

"So, tell us all the details," Donna presses, turning off speaker.

Harvey helps her prop up her leg while she talks, then she hangs up with a smile on her face.

"He's so happy."

"He's not the only one," Harvey says, sitting next to her, their lips brushing.

"You know what he said? His heart opened up. A new spot Matilda owned. He's such a sap."

"Never related to the guy more." Harvey kisses Donna until they fall against the pillows. Something telling him now that he'd opened up to Donna, his life had opened up to _his_ more too.


End file.
